


port and a storm

by steelphoenix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: I wrote this because of Discord, M/M, Multi, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Threesome - F/M/M, implied clonecest, the threesome is explicit everything else is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelphoenix/pseuds/steelphoenix
Summary: Coruscant is Taylir Hetram's least favourite port, and she hates the GAR. But a hookup with a pair of clones might change her opinion of the men, if not the Army.
Relationships: CT-5385 | Tup/Original Clone Character, CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix, CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	port and a storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Star Wars fic I've ever posted on the internet and it's smut, which is entirely the fault of the Mando Discord - love you all!  
> 100% inspired by the Fox's Fat Tiddies saga and the truly delicious artwork that it produced. This was supposed to be just smut and then a baby clone happened. There's more plot by percentage than filth and it's not even close. Oops. Well, there is smut?  
> Most of the smut was written to Puscifer's Rev 22-20 (Dry Martini Mix), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSoSDCQ20L8.
> 
> Kark and kriff are used as substitutes for fuck, and there's some Mando'a swearing. It's translated at the bottom but it's mostly just blasphemy.

Coruscant is Taylir Hetram's least favourite port. Nal Hutta or Nar Shaddaa were usually the ones that got the most hatred, but for Taylir - born and raised on a sparsely-populated agriworld - the constant rush of people and vehicles winds her up tight and stressed her out. More than any other ecumenopolis, the Customs regulations were ridiculously strict, the paperwork complicated, the officials haughty and unhelpful, and the transit lanes inevitably delayed, jammed, cleared for military use, or all of the above.

It didn't help that she'd run afoul of the Coruscant Guard for supposed smuggling a couple of months ago, and they were a bunch of suspicious karks, especially the boys in white. Which meant that even though she'd been cleared - after two weeks of a terrible-but-cheap lawyer arguing at people in court - they now went over her ship with a fine-toothed comb every gods-damned time she landed. And that delayed unloading and reloading, and time was money to a small-time transporter like her, especially in times of war.

Unfortunately, that has also lead to at least one _incredibly conspicuous_ white-and-red armoured Coruscant Guard tailing her _very unsubtly_ everywhere she goes on Coruscant. She still isn't sure if it was because they had legitimate concerns, because they were suspicious, or because she'd sassed the Sergeant that had given her the Guard's Official Written Apology (with very poor grace) and they now wanted to get back at her.

Doubly unfortunately, her next delivery is to a small artisan collective near the Temple District, right in the heart of GAR and Guard territory. She'd been doing the run bimonthly almost since she'd started business, and though the collective's art had gained some recognition, they had stuck with her. That loyalty was the only thing that kept her from trying to get the dropoff changed - another maxim of small-time transport being that you kept good customers sweet however you could. So she tolerates the squad of Guard and _two_ Customs officials, submits to having her helmet off for retina and facial scans and details again, stands aside as they pull scanning equipment aboard and laboriously search every nook and cranny of her ship. She doesn't know why they bother, it isn't like anything had changed. Species: Near-Human, hair: black/curly, skin: mid-brown, eyes: yellow/striped.

When they finally leave - begrudgingly - Taylir stacks up the first of several loads on a hovercart, locks up the ship, and begins the laborious process of unloading and delivery. It takes nearly two hours to walk the loads to the collective and back, with her conspicuous red-and-white shadow tailing her every step of the way. By the time she's finished the run, the Guard has stopped even bothering to hide, just following along a few metres behind her, leaning idly against a wall as she loaded up at the hangar and unloaded at the collective, and Taylir has had _enough_. She stows her hovercart in the cargo bay, and strides down the cargo ramp, straight to the loitering Guard. He straightens from his lean as she approaches, and she plants herself in front of him and prods him in the chestplate _hard_ , saying, "Alright, you kark-brained shab, why are you lot tailing me?"

"Commander's orders," says the Guard, sounding confused, of all things.

Kriffing idiot. All security forces are the same, and the GAR is no different. "I don't suppose he said _why_ you need to be doing that?" she asks, with all the sarcasm she feels is necessary.

"You're a smuggler, and the Commander doesn't want you to have any chance to pick up illegal merchandise," comes the reply, still confused and surprisingly _young_.

Taylir buries her face in her hands and growls out her frustration. "I am _not a smuggler_! It was proven in a _court of law_ less than two months ago. I'm just a small-time transporter, it's literally me and a couple of droids in this ship! I don't even have another ship!" She yanks off her helmet. "What's it going to take? Do they need more scans, do they want to tail me forever, do they want me to land in the kriffing Guard compound every time I come in?! Just _tell me_ , I don't want this idiocy every time I'm on Coruscant!"

"I don't -"

"Oh for stars' sake, take off that bucket and talk to me face-to-face," Taylir spits, ready to punch him if he's being deliberately dense.

The trooper pulls off his helmet, and that face (that same face) is younger than she'd been expecting. He looks maybe eighteen, tops, and the hurt expression in the melting brown eyes rivals that of tooka kittens. "I'm sorry you don't like it, ma'am, but I've only been with the Guard two weeks and I _have_ to do what Commander Thire tells me." His voice breaks a little on the Commander's name, and he blushes.

He's just a kid. He's the new kid and he's gotten the poodoo job of tailing someone who doesn't want (or need) to be tailed. Taylir sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose, hard. She can't take it out on this kid, he's doing his job and it isn't like he gets a choice - it isn't like any of the clones get any choices at all. "Fine," she says, taking a deep breath and letting it out her nose slowly. "Okay, kid. I'm going to get some food somewhere near here, then I'm going to repair some parts on my ship, then I'm going to sleep, and then I'm going to take off in the morning. Is that enough?"

The kid shakes his head, and then ducks it, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I have to follow you until I'm relieved."

So she's going to have the kid tailing her all night. Gods. And she'd kind of been hoping to find a hookup. "Okay, kid - wait. What's your name?"

"I'm CT-43-5394," he replies, and then, when Taylir gives him the stinkeye, ducks his head again, and mumbles very quietly, "'m Break. Not supposed to tell civvies our names."

She takes it back, the GAR is worse than most security forces. "Okay, Break, then you and I are going to go to a little diner near here and we're going to have food. Bucket back on, let's go," she pulls her helmet back on and hits her remote, closing the ship's ramp, and turns towards the bay entrance, not waiting for the trooper to follow - but he does, with a rattle of white plastoid.

Half an hour later, Taylir is feeling full and weirdly _angry_. Break had hesitated to enter the diner with her, and then when he did, he'd curled in on himself and tried to make himself small. And his expression when the waitress had put the daily special in front of him - inexpensive vat-grown nerf steak, chipped protato, and a mix of unidentifiable green things in sauce that were presumably vegetables - his face filling with joy and disbelief, and he'd looked at the waitress and then Taylir like they'd handed him a kilo of finest ryll. He'd almost _cried_ while eating it, and then had explained, snuffling, that it was the first non-ration meal he'd ever had, and Taylir revised her opinion of the GAR downward again.

"Right, kiddo, I'm going to get a drink and then I'm going to go back to the ship," Taylir says, standing and dropping a few credit sticks on the table. Break follows her lead, now smiling and trotting along like a happy tooka kit at her heel. She leaves her helmet off, clipping it to her belt - too hot in the humid Coruscant night.

As they wend their way through the streets, he chatters happily about training, his batchmates (brothers?), and how _big_ everything on Coruscant was, and she tells him a little about what it's like being a transport pilot, and he's fascinated, despite how boring it really is.

"Yes, but at least you're not going to be shot at all the time," he says, and laughs like it's a great joke. Taylir smiles - fake, but he doesn't notice, apparently suddenly realising where they are, and their likely destination. "Oh no," he says, quietly. "That's the Mystic Lady. That's _501st territory_. I can't go there _\- you_ can't go there, it's not safe."

Taylir smiles at him, hoping it's somewhat reassuring. "I've been coming here for years, Break, it's fine." She'd noticed the blue-marked clones in the bar since the start of the war, but they'd been polite, if a bit loud. There's no danger here. The young trooper seems to shrink again as he reluctantly follows her in, trying to hide his armoured bulk behind her - which isn't working, because while they're almost of a height, she is athletic rather than broad, and there is a considerable amount sticking out around the edges. Taylir takes a seat at the bar, and he tentatively sits down next to her, holding his helmet in his lap and hunching down, eyes nervously flickering around and taking in everything around him.

She has just received her drink when a heavy hand lands on Break's pauldron and he looks up, fear in every movement. Taylir turns as well, to see another clone - in some kind of blue-marked dress uniform rather than armour, but still obviously older than Break, broader and more heavily muscled, and glaring. A Republic cog is tattooed on his face and bald head, crossed by scars. "You're new, Guard, so I'll give you a chance to go peacefully. This is 501st territory."

Break is starting to sputter out an explanation, when Taylir interrupts, picking up the other clone's hand and removing it from Break's pauldron. "Yes," she says, firm, standing up and meeting his eyes squarely. "He's new, and he's my tail detail. I'm here so he's here. It's not his fault, and if you try to kick him out I _will_ fight you."

The cog-marked clone frowns at her. "Tail detail?" Apparently the threat to fight isn't the interesting part of her declaration. Okay.

Taylir smiles at him - sharp and feral, as has become increasingly necessary over the war's duration. "Commander Thire thinks I'm a smuggler, so he's got the kid doing the poodoo job of following me around everywhere."

The clone starts to grin, and Break makes a scared noise behind her. "Why look after him if he's supposed to be tailing you?"

"He had his first real, not-rations meal less than an hour ago," Taylir replies, and lets the anger still simmering at the back of her mind bleed out into her voice.

The older clone's expression shutters, utterly blank for a moment, and then his hand comes down on Break's pauldron, and he's lifting the younger clone up and putting an arm around his shoulders and then starts leading Break towards the back of the bar. "Okay, _vod'ika_ , come and sit with us, and you can have your first drink too." He catches Taylir's hand with his free one, and she grabs her drink and follows as she's pulled along.

At the back of the bar there are a series of tables pushed together, a booth anchoring one end, and clones in a motley mix of blue armour, dress uniform, and civilian clothes are arrayed around them. The talk dies down as Break and the cog-marked clone approach the table, broken by a couple of jeers about the Guard. _"Vode_ , this is - wait, I didn't get your name, _"_ he says, looking at Break.

"CT-43-5394," comes the reply, then quieter, "Break."

The older clone carries on easily, "This is our new _vod'ika_ , Break. He's with the Guard, and he just had his first non-rat meal."

"Well let's give him his first drink then, Sergeant!" comes a cheer from one end, from a clone with a goatee and a '5' tattooed on his temple.

"You just volunteered yours, Fives!" the older clone says, pushing Break down into a free chair, sliding in close beside another clone with lightning bolts shaved into his short hair. He pulls Taylir down to his left, between the two of them, and as she is sandwiched between two muscular bodies, she abruptly remembers that one of her original goals of this night had been to get laid. Were clones any good in bed?

The goateed clone comes over, plunking his drink down beside Break and grinning, gesturing. It's something virulently green and fizzy, and Break tentatively picks it up, sniffs it, and then takes a tiny sip. His face is a _journey_ \- surprised, pleased, horrified, and then he's coughing, bent over the table. "Jesse, your _vod'ika_ doesn't appreciate my fine tastes," teases Fives, and gets an eyeroll.

Apparently-Jesse laughs, and pushes his drink over to Break. "Here, Break, try this."

Break shoots him such a sceptical look that Taylir laughs out loud, and Break looks over to her, a look of betrayed innocence on his face. She smiles, and says, "Try that, maybe one more thing, and then you're done. You'll feel the alcohol soon enough." He does, very tentative, and his face lights up and he takes a bigger sip, and then grinning and pulling the glass in, clearly claiming it.

"That's _netra gal_ , Mandalorian black beer," Jesse informs him, with a wide grin. "You're proper _Mando'ade_ if you like that. You can stay." He gets a brilliant grin from Break - somehow brighter and shinier and more _innocent_ than the smiles of the other clones. Fives claps Break on a shoulder, and starts talking about Guard training versus battlefield training.

For the next little while, Taylir is busy talking about transportation as a business, armour patterns, a weird diversion into art and what qualifies as art with a clone named Script, and then different favourite drinks. She's finished her drink but hasn't got another, too busy arguing that meiloorun-flavoured liqueur is a Sith invention. Break has been swallowed up by other members of the 501st, clearly accepted, and Taylir is on her own, trapped between the two clones. Jesse has a look of interest on his face that is clearly readable, and he slides an arm around her back, settling on her hip. She lets him, settles back into his embrace, slightly turning towards Kix, who she now knows is Jesse's partner (she's not sure if it's weird, but it's certainly a _blisteringly hot_ image) and one of the 501st's medics.

"So," asks Kix, "Why did you come here? Just a drink?" His voice is a little softer, but more intense than the others as he looks into Taylir's eyes. They are the same brown as Break's, but there is a wealth of experience and pain there, and clear desire, plain and simple _want_ , and it makes Taylir's stomach and thighs clench.

"I wasn't -" begins Taylir, and then decides, _kark it, I may as well_. "Well, I was hoping for a hookup, but Break put that out of reach."

"Oh, not at all," says Jesse, a sensual rumble right into her ear, "If you want it, we can come with you when you go back to your ship. He can sleep off his hangover with supervision and you can _get_ _what you came for_."

A punched-out sound escapes Taylir's mouth, because Jesse's arm is tightening around her waist and Kix has leaned forward, his breath hot on her cheek. The implication is clear: she can have both of them, if she wants - and she does. There is a breathless instant when he hangs there, inviting, and then Taylir surges forward, catches his face between her hands and meets his mouth with her own and his lips are soft and intense and his tongue flicks for a moment across the seam of her lips before he withdraws - and that is a _smug_ look, and dear stars, it's sexy as all hells as he licks his lips.

"Yes. Yes _please_ ," she manages to get out.

That smug look persists as Jesse hauls her back into his lap and claims her lips - hard, aggressive, as confident as Kix but more possessive. Taylir opens her mouth under his, lets herself go, revels in the firm arm around her waist and tongue sliding into her mouth. He knows what he's doing, and Taylir takes full and shameless advantage. Kix's hand is on her thigh and for some reason that makes it _better_ , all heat and anticipation.

The kiss breaks, and suddenly she realises that the table around them has gone quiet, and then there's a whistle. A tentative voice - Break's - breaks the silence ( _hah_ ), with a tentative, "So, uh. Miss Hetram. Taylir. You're uh. Are you going back to the ship?"

Taylir turns in Jesse's grip, looking over at Break. He blushes bright red as she grins, and replies, "Yes. How soon depends on… other people."

"Now is good," comes Jesse's voice, quiet, and then Kix stands, hooks a hand under the back of Taylir's skull and gently urges her to her feet. Taylir goes easily into his grip, and he lays another careful, teasing kiss on her lips as Jesse's hands slide around her hips. Jesse snaps out orders without turning, command tone in his voice, "We're going back to Taylir's ship. Break, you're with us because of your orders, Fives and Tup, you're escort for Break." He slides his arm around Taylir's waist again - and she could get to like that possessiveness - and shoots a look over at the men he's named.

There's a slight grumble from Fives before he concedes, and Tup - apparently armoured and long-haired - slips an arm around Break's shoulders and lifts him up as Jesse had earlier. Break grumbles a little, and then follows.

\-----

The trip back to Taylir's ship is a blur of anticipation, hands teasing at her waist and ass and hips, brushing at her neck, and the first time she's fully aware is when Fives is yelling 'helpful' advice at them as Kix pulls her up the ramp, Jesse's hand resting in the small of her back. As Jesse hits the ramp-close button, Kix pins her against the bulkhead, and for the first time pries her lips open and _takes_ her mouth. Jesse had been aggressive, but Kix was just - overwhelmingly intense, everywhere at once. Taylir loses all sense of time, nothing but his lips on hers, his chest against hers, hands under her thighs - and then there is another hand sliding into her hair, turning her head, and Jesse's lips replace Kix's, swift and sure. Kix's mouth trails down her neck, leaving a hot, wet trail, and Taylir gasps again under the dual assault.

She manages to tear her mouth away from Jesse's, gasping out, "Bed." She gets a smirk from Jesse, and then Kix lowers her to the deck. It takes her a long second for her to stabilise her knees, and she then steps out of their holds, stumbling along the corridor towards her cabin and hitting the door-open. She manages to get her helmet and jacket hung up before there is a pair of hands peeling her out of her shirt and she looks over to see Jesse stripping out of his dress uniform and boots, meaning that the nimble fingers undoing her bra are Kix's.

Jesse is broad and built like a tank - big shoulders, thick thighs, barrel chest and solid core - and adorned with tattoos everywhere. Taylir's eyes follow the geometric patterns, blue and black and silver, that run down his abs and up over his shoulders, the lists of names on his thighs, the lightning bolts _\- Kix's_ lightning bolts - that sit over the lines of his hips and adonis belt.

In a few bare moments, she's completely naked and she's leaning back against the rough fabric of Kix's uniform. He nips at the corner of her jaw, cups her breasts, big warm hands caging her in, running lightly over her nipples and sending a shiver through her.

Jesse is in front of her in a moment, and the desire in his eyes is intoxicating. He kneels before her, and Kix's arms close around her, and Jesse is nipping and licking at her mound and the inside of her thighs and then further in as Kix continues to touch and tease her nipples, gently running over them one moment and gripping them hard the next. Taylir can feel the hard bulge of Kix's cock up against her ass, and she grinds back as Jesse pays particular attention to her labia, wetting them further from her own arousal.

Kix makes an obscene sound, catching Taylir's hips in a vice-grip, and Jesse abruptly looks up, his mouth shiny with saliva, and smirks. "Bed, _cyarese_? You wanna do this somewhere comfortable?"

"Yeah," Taylir gasps, and wrenches herself forward. Jesse is on his feet, catching her easily and steering her towards the bed, and behind her there's a frantic shuffle of movement, and then, as she moves up onto the bed, Kix's hands close on her hips again, stopping her at the edge. She teeters for a moment, on her knees, and then his mouth comes down, hot on her neck, and he's sucking a hickey into the space at the hinge of her jaw. It's intense, almost oversensitive, and for a moment, Taylir wonders how this man - these men - have slid through her defences so quickly.

Then Jesse is in front of her, on his knees as well, and he hauls her in close, big hands catching her thighs up under her ass and lifting. Taylir goes with a squeak of surprise, arms coming reflexively up around his neck, and he chuckles deep and low and sexy as he swings her around and _throws_ her up the bed. She lets out another surprised gasp as she bounces but _wow_ , he's strong, and that's winding her even tighter.

Kix pauses at the base of the bed, leaning down to kiss Jesse quick and dirty, and the image of the two of them together is even hotter than Taylir had imagined. They're both built, miles of bronze skin and heavy muscle, chiselled jaws and defined cheekbones and gorgeous wide, lush mouths that she's already enjoyed. Kix is leaner than Jesse, but still all solid chest and core. He has similar geometric tattoos to Jesse's, though fewer, centred on a blue medic symbol at the middle of his chest.

It's not a big bed - designed for two but not generous - so Kix easily brushes past her to plant himself at the head of the bed and pull her up against him, her back against his broad chest, the hard line of his cock snugged up between her asscheeks. Taylir arches into him reflexively, and his hands stutter on her hips with a punched-out groan.

Jesse is still kneeling, grinning wide, and his cock twitches a little at the groan Kix makes. Then he's leaning forward and burying his face in her thigh, breath coming in hot pants across her skin and making her shiver.

"Wanna eat you out," he growls, and nips at the point of her hip. "Wanna get you all messy and wet, make you scream."

"Yes - _yes_ , Jesse, please -" Taylir gets out, and then his mouth is on her. He's enthusiastic, his tongue hot and teasing as he licks up and over her slit, circling her clit and then back down, getting her juices all over his face. Kix's breathing is ragged in her ear and he's got one hand braced low on her stomach, keeping her pressed up against him, the other teasing at her nipples, rolling them deftly between his fingertips. He nibbles at her neck, leaving little points of heat that are overwhelmed by the rush of sensation as Jesse sucks on her clit.

She's flushed everywhere, the hot line of Kix's cock up against her back and she's _aching_ with need, shaking with sheer want. Jesse's changed tactics, using different patterns, slow swirls and figure-eights and quick little strokes, and Taylir can barely _think_ as he listens and learns and drives her higher and higher.

For a second, Jesse pulls back, lips and teeth leave teasing kisses and nips over her thighs and labia, and Taylir shudders, so close. _"More!"_ she demands breathlessly, hand scrabbling at his head but finding nothing to grip, and he grins and dives back in.

Taylir is shaking and she grinds down onto Jesse's mouth. He stiffens his tongue and spears it into her cunt, nose nudging her clit and she jolts at the sensation. Kix makes an obscene noise against her neck and Taylir feels a spurt of hot pre-come smearing across her back and his fingers tighten and _pinch_ at her nipple and she's _gone_ , the wash of orgasm drowning her in brilliant heat, shaking, her hips hitching and her breath punched out of her in heaving little moans.

She surfaces as Kix swears into her hair, hands clamped on her stomach and up over her breast, rutting up against her ass, and then Jesse sucks on her clit again and she shudders over the edge into another orgasm. It's long and rolling, and everything is pulsing with heat and endorphins and she doesn't realise she's squashed Jesse's head between her thighs until his hands dig in and force them apart.

_"Ka'ra_ , _"_ Jesse breathes out, reverent, as she goes limp, head dropping back against Kix's shoulder, still shaking a little. "I wanna kark you so bad. So bad."

"Yeah? Who's first?" Taylir says, looking down at where he is still kneeling between her legs, cock hard and dark and shiny at the head. She looks up, where his face is shiny too, smeared with her fluids, and reaches out. Kix lets her go and Jesse comes easily as she stretches up to catch the back of his neck and drag him down, kissing him hard and messy, his tongue in her mouth and musky with her own taste. Kix groans behind her and she breaks off with Jesse to lean back and open her mouth for him to take, and he does so with a hungry intensity.

"I think Kix gets to go first," says Jesse, low and rasping in her ear, and she shivers. "You've been rubbing up against him this whole time and he's primed so well. He's gonna explode soon." He wraps an arm around her and manhandles her around easily, up onto her knees - and that sends another pulse of heat through her - and she gets to see Kix for the first time since they started.

The smug look is gone off his face and his eyes are black and gold, pupils blown wide with lust, his lips bitten and swollen and slick. He's slumped against the pillows, chest heaving with panting breaths, thick thighs spread with thick cock jutting between them, and as Taylir meets his eyes he growls out, "Kark you, Jesse."

"Oh no. You're gonna kark Taylir," Jesse says with a pleased rumble, and Taylir has a moment to realise that their voices are similar but not the same. "Condom?" he prompts, and Taylir crawls forward on hands and knees - Jesse idly caressing her ass as she does so - to open a compartment and fish out a pair of condoms. She hands one over her shoulder and then straddles Kix, the other in her hand.

Kix snatches the condom out of her hand and shuffles himself down until he's lying flat. "Sorry, _cyar'ika_ , but if you do that I'm not gonna hold." He rips it open and rolls it on perfunctorily, then reaches out, catching her hips. Taylir lets him, leaning up on his chest and slowly lowering herself, centimetre by endless centimetre, onto his dick. He's as thick as he looks, filling and stretching, and the slide is easy but so, so damn satisfying. _"Stars_ , you're tight, _"_ Kix gasps out.

She's seated fully when Jesse snugs up behind her, big hands linking up with Kix's on her hips. "Yeah, _cyar'ika_ , yeah," he mutters in her ear, and she leans back against him, just enjoying his heat and strength for a few delicious seconds before she moves.

It's easy, pressure building again and everything lighting up again as she rolls her hips, and Kix's hands spasm on her hips. Jesse's hands move, one sliding down to tease at her clit and the other up under her breasts, supporting her weight and pushing her up against his cock, tucked between her asscheeks the same way Kix's had been earlier.

Taylir is starting to drown in the sensation again, overheated and pulsing, breath tight in her chest. As she lifts herself up again, Jesse's fingers - clever and blaster-callused - slide down, teasing at where she and Kix are joined, pressing in, and then up to flicker at her clit and the edge is _right there_ , and then he kisses up under her ear, saying, "Look at you two," and she's gone again, caught in the rush of heat.

And Kix loses control, hips jerking up, stuttering as her cunt pulses around him. "Little gods, Jess - your hands - Tayli - you're so beautiful - your breasts, next time I'm gonna suck them until you come - _Mandaaaa - ah, ah,_ " and then he's coming, hips shoving Taylir up, amber eyes fluttering closed as he gasps out his orgasm. The impact of his hips against hers, and Jesse's fingers still sliding over her clit stretches out Taylir's orgasm into a long, pulsing, gaspingly intense thing, and she slumps back into Jesse's arms as it rolls through.

Jesse's voice is a trail of filth in Taylir's ear. "Yeah, _cyare_ , come on, karking come on his dick, come on, gonna get my dick in you next, ' _lek_ , _'lek_ -" He pushes her forward, and Kix catches her, folding her down to rest on his chest and catching her face in his hands, kissing her wet and sloppy and full of passion and still-hot lust.

Then Jesse's hands catch her hips, lifting them up and then he's sliding into the mess left and everything is riding on the edge of oversensitive and Taylir can barely think as he slams home again and again. Kix is kissing her like he wants to eat her, one hand supporting her head and the other slid down - when? - to tease at her nipples, tweaking them in time with Jesse's thrusts. Vaguely she can hear Jesse still talking, blurts of obscenity, and Kix's eyes are golden intensity and the pressure breaks again, pulsing and sparking through her and Taylir is floating, Jesse's thrusts stuttering and he's coming, draping himself over her, and she's trapped between them and fiery with their heat.

She just - drifts, for a while, letting the endorphins do exactly what she wanted them to, revelling in the skin-on-skin, the gentle touch as they roll over onto their sides. There's a shuffle of movement as the condoms are discarded and someone does something with a comm, but then they're back, bracketing her in, warm and strong and _safe_ , and she lets herself sleep.

\----

Taylir wakes to an ungodly beeping, and her pillow - firmer and warmer than usual - moves and then _swears_ , and she remembers who she brought back to the ship. Jesse is snugged up against her back, grumbling at the noise, and Kix is rolling out of the bed to grab a comm from the pile of clothes.

"Yes," he snaps, and Taylir glares across the cabin at the comm, trying to set it on fire with her mind. Unfortunately, she's no Jedi.

An amused drawl comes out of the speaker. _"Vod_ , I'm sure you're having fun, but curfew's in half-an-hour and we still have to get back to barracks. _"_

_"Kriff_ , _"_ Kix snarls, and Jesse echoes him. "We'll be out in five."

"You have to go?" Taylir asks, as Kix starts grabbing his clothes and throwing Jesse's to him.

Jesse snorted. "Midnight curfew," he replied, shuffling to the edge of the bed and beginning to dress. "As long as we're registered in at the barracks by midnight, we're fine. Doesn't matter _where_ in the barracks, so we can shower when we're back."

Taylir drops her opinion of the GAR downwards again, and then slides out of bed to grab her clothes too. "Well. I'll see you off, then." That got her half-incredulous smiles from the two men, and she wonders briefly what assholes they'd slept with previously.

As the ship's ramp lowers, Kix hauls her up against the wall and kisses her again - just as thorough and intense as the first time - and Taylir loses her breath as Jesse takes over.

As they let her go, she gasps out a breath and gestures towards them, "Comms - your comms." Wearing matching looks of surprise - and kriff, that was the first time they'd looked _like clones_ \- they handed them over, and she quickly programs in her frequency, feeling herself blushing as she hands them back. She'd had hookups before, this wasn't the sort of thing she did - usually, she could barely remember their names. But these two - "This is my comm address. Comm me whenever, I'd love to have a repeat if we're in the same place sometime. But - I'd like to just talk, if we can."

The two men smile, and Taylir ducks her head. Gently, Jesse takes her hand. "We will, Taylir," he replies, and then leads her down the ramp.

At the entrance of the hangar, Fives is sitting on a crate, reading something on a datapad, and Break and Tup are nowhere to be seen. He looks up, clocks them, and grins, then yells, "Hey, you two! Time to go!" towards the back of the hangar, behind the ship. Taylir turns to see a flicker of movement, hear the clack of plastoid, and then the two missing clones slink out of the shadows, looking red-faced and vaguely embarrassed, and the picture it paints of standard clone hookups makes Taylir frown. Tonight, with her two, that had clearly been an aberration.

Then Jesse leans over and kisses her - sweet and soft - and Kix slides an arm about her to kiss her with the same gentleness. They're both just as good as before, but there's something bitter about the taste of their mouths. Taylir keeps smiling, though, because they need to remember this well when they inevitably die.

They look back one last time at the hangar's entrance, and she waves and grins, and they leave smiling.

"Commander Fox always says the 501st is trouble," says Break, stepping up beside her, and she jumps a little, because she'd almost forgotten about him. He's got a dopey grin on his face, probably related to Tup. "But they're good trouble."

Taylir smiles at that. "Yeah. I like their kind of trouble."

\-----

Taylir's comm is buzzing. Stars only know who would be contacting her - and then the frequency registers, and she picks up with a quick hello because it's Kix and they haven't talked in a week and she _misses_ him and Jesse fiercely.

"Taylir - are you on Coruscant?" comes Kix's voice, urgent and almost whispered over background noise. She frowns.

"Yes," she replies, a shiver going down her spine at his breath of relief. "I'm in the usual hangar. What is it?"

"I need help."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, that is setup for a fix-it I will never write, but I couldn't leave it at canon endings because fuck that noise.
> 
> Mando'a:  
> Taylir - Preserver (TIE-leer). She doesn't know, though.  
> Cyarese - Loved ones. Cyare is the singular (beloved), and cyar'ika is the diminutive (essentially sweetheart or darling).  
> Ka'ra - Stars, both literal and a mythical council of rulers.  
> Manda - The collective Mandalorian soul, both as a sort of overarching guardian spirit and the afterlife.  
> Elek - Yes, shortened to 'lek for 'yeah'.


End file.
